


Something's Wrong

by SarcasticSmiler



Series: SpringFRE prompt fills [7]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 19:32:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6623392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarcasticSmiler/pseuds/SarcasticSmiler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 2 - (Possible College AU) You always show up to our 8:30 immaculately dressed and your handwriting is so neat and you always have your shit together and today you look like you’ve been crying and you’re wearing a ratty old shirt and you’re not taking notes or participating at all and we’ve never talked but is everything all right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something's Wrong

Mitchell sat at the back of the lecture hall, tapping his pen against his open notebook in time with his bouncing leg. He’d pulled a couple of all-nighters to get some essays finished, running on Red Bull, Pro Plus, and the odd snatches of sleep where he’d drifted off at the computer, only to jerk awake with the keys imprinted on his cheek and a half dozen pages of random letters on the screen.

He was convinced he had more caffeine than blood in his system right now, making him twitch and jitter. A distant voice in his head, which sounded oddly like George, pointed out that that probably wasn’t a good thing. But Mitchell was in that strange place of hyper awake yet tired beyond belief, so very little of what was good or bad truly registered.

All he wanted to do was go home and sleep like the dead.

The irony of which wasn’t lost on him.

But he _had_ to attend this lecture, it was the only one that had _him_ in it.

_He_ was the only reason Mitchell even attended these lectures anymore. In his opinion, the arse crack of dawn was not a suitable time to attempt _any_ form of learning.

Mitchell glanced at the clock, a dark frown pulling down his brows making those seated around him shift warily, even as most stifled the urge to grab his tapping pen and fling it as far as they could.

_He_ was late.

He was never late.

Always on time, always smartly dressed, with his gelled back hair, and organised notes written in the neatest damn hand Mitchell had ever seen.

Mitchell’s eyes flicked to the front of the hall, the lecturer had finally managed to open up his PowerPoint presentation.

He’d start droning on any minute now and _he_ still wasn’t there.

Ten minutes in and not even the caffeine in his system could stop his eyes slipping to half-mast as he slumped in his chair. In all his years on this earth, he’d never met someone who could send this many people to sleep with just their monotone, droning voice.

Blinking open gritty eyes, Mitchell turned with a slight frown at the sound of the door quietly opening and closing.

Scrubbing at them with glove covered palms when he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

_He_ had finally turned up.

But something was clearly wrong.

His normally slicked back hair was a riot of soft, blond waves trying their damnedest to curl.

His usual button up shirt had been replaced with a faded t-shirt, with a sagging neckline and holes in the hem.

His hands were buried in the pockets of a hoodie so baggy it swamped his small body.

Mitchell blinked again, sluggish mind finally registering the red rimmed blue eyes as he slid into a chair a few spaces from him.

Something was very, very wrong.

Pen picking up it’s incessant tapping, much to the annoyance of those around him if the exaggerated huffs and groans were anything to go by, Mitchell watched him out of the corner of his eye.

After the third hiccupped breath, and subsequent nose wiping on a sleeve covered hand, Mitchell gathered up his courage and slipped from his own chair to quietly drop into the one next to _him_.

A brief flash of blue was all the indication Mitchell got that his presence had been noticed.

Chewing on his lower lip, he flicked open his notebook, scribbled down a message and pushed it closer to _him_.

_Hey, I know we’ve never talked before, but are you alright?_

Blond brows drew down in a slight frown before a small hand appeared out of a hoodie sleeve to scoop up Mitchell’s pen.

_Not really. But I don’t see how that’s any of your business._

_Wanna talk about it? Don’t they say that talking to a stranger can ease your burdens or something?_

_It’s a family problem and I’m pretty sure I’ve done enough talking recently to last a lifetime._

_You sure you don’t want to vent?_

_Fine. Want to know what happened? I fucked up. Big time. Now they’re majorly pissed at me, so pissed I’m banned from the family for the foreseeable future. Happy now?_

_Ouch._

_Yeah. Ouch. Now leave me alone._

Mitchell gnawed on his lower lip again, eyeing the defensive little blond next to him huddled in his too big hoodie. Bristling like a pissed off cat…or a scared little hedgehog.

He knew, logically, that he should leave well enough alone. He had enough problems of his own to deal with, without adding a basic stranger’s to the pile.

But Mitchell had never been particularly good at leaving things alone.

_Want to get a pint or something after this?_

_Are you shitting me right now? I tell you to leave me alone and you ask me out? And a pint? It’s barely half 9 in the morning, what’s wrong with you?_

_Honestly I’ve been awake so long right now that the idea of ‘morning’ is a really hazy concept. And I’m not asking you out, just asking if you want to go out as friends to help you feel better._

_Friends? I don’t know you and you don’t know me._

Before Mitchell could respond everyone around them started shifting, packing up their things and heading out the door. The lecture had finished and he hadn’t even realised.

“I’m Mitchell,” he introduced himself, quickly turning to the blond rising from his seat, “and I’d like to have the chance to get to know you.”

“You’re a bit of a freak, aren’t you,” the blond’s voice was slightly scratchy, Mitchell could only assume it was from crying.

“Just a bit, I suppose,” he agreed, a self-depreciating smile quirking his lips before an unexpected yawn split them.

“I think you need to sleep more than badger me to go out with you.”

“Sleep can wait a little longer, your problems seem more important than a little shut eye.”

“I’m not going to be able to get rid of you, am I?”

“Probably not,” Mitchell shrugged, shoving his notebook in his bag.

“Fine,” he huffed, resigned, “There’s a coffee shop round the corner, we’ll go, have _one_ drink, and then you’ll leave me alone. Got it?”

“Sure, fine. Just one question though.”

“What?” he asked, warily.

“What’s your name?”

“Anders.”

“Lead the way then, Anders,” Mitchell grinned, gesturing for Anders to go ahead of him, tiredness evaporating at the prospect of spending time with the intriguing man.

He was sure he could get the defensive, handsome blond to like him, and as they left the lecture hall, Mitchell holding open the door for the shorter man, he was positive that this was just the chance he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't that good, I know and I apologise. This has been sitting on my wip pile for over a week and a half now, it's parts spread out between Word and various notebooks. I had to force it to a close and I'm not entirely happy with it, but I need to get these wips out of the way.
> 
> This has barely been proofread, honestly I'm kinda sick of looking at it, so I also apologise for any mistakes within the text.


End file.
